The Art of Deception
by actualmewtwo
Summary: Rosemary Espionage au. Kanaya Maryam is hired to work as a maid for aristocrat Rose Lalonde. While Kanaya tries to please her in her work as best she can, it soon becomes apparent that Rose is not all that she seems. (Please let me know if you like it, I'm going to continue based on level of interest.)
1. Prologue

Chapter I

It is not so difficult, being a servant and waiting on someone hand and foot.

That, of course, is a lie, one of many I would later tell. It is tedious, tiring, degrading, and hardly worth it. Especially if you're waiting on _her, _a vile and odious girl who thinks herself leagues ahead of those around her both in cunning and wealth. It would not be much of an exaggeration to say that she believes herself to be fit to run the world. With a beauty like a shining light that could blind a hundred men and delicate yet piercing eyes that could turn a king to stone, everyone in her circle of peers knows to fear her despite her age. And with her circle of peers being powerful old millionaires, this is truly a feat. Hair as golden as the sun and the figure of a model, a posture and air of confidence that could strike down a god. I hate her. With everything in my body capable, I hate her. Her name, a beautiful, gracious name that rolls off of your tongue like poison and is just as dreaded:

Rose Lalonde.

The first time I heard it I was just a young girl. My mother, a kind and hospitable woman who had raised me after I had been ungraciously dumped on her doorstep, would talk about her frequently, going on about how well we would get along one day. But as highly as she spoke of her, I always knew deep within me that it was that girl who wore her down so badly every day. She had been a maid for the Lalonde family for most of her life and was fairly well off for it in terms of money. As much as a single mother working as a servant could be, at least. I was ten when things started to go downhill for the Lalonde Corporation, and my mother was one of few staff not laid off. Her pay was severely reduced, her years of service the only thing keeping her from losing her job. She was old and sick as it was, so we were lucky Ms. Roxy Lalonde (Rose's mother, and owner of the company) was as generous and warm as she had been. For three years the two of us lived in poverty, almost losing our house and living primarily off of leftovers brought home from the Lalondes' meals. My mother would have tried to find a new job had she been younger and more spry.

Then, miraculously, three years ago the company made a whopping comeback. No one is quite sure why or how, not even Ms. Lalonde, but my mother never quite seemed to care much so neither did I. But of course, if things had gone as happily as they should have from there on out, I probably would not have as interesting of a story to tell. My mother passed quietly in her sleep one night, and with me being too young to get a job that pays well enough to sustain myself, I was without home and any relatives to support me.

Thankfully, I had not been exaggerating in saying that Ms. Lalonde was a kind and loving person. She offered me a job working as a maid in her mansion in exchange for food, shelter, clothing, and anything else I might need to go about my life. If I had known what was in store for me then, I might have said no. But I had no other real option, and was much more of optimist then, so I accepted gratefully. She didn't have any need for more staff, so I was to be presented to her daughter as a gift. She hadn't meant to make me sound like an object when explaining it to her, like a piece of property, but as I stood in front of the serpent-girl in the ridiculously stereotypical maid dress and bowed deeply, I knew one thing for certain from the devious look in her eyes and the way she smiled at my obedience. From that moment forwards, I was hers.


	2. Chapter 1

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Miss Lalonde." I said, bowing deeply at the waist. I wanted to show my diligence, and it _was_ a pleasure, at the time. She lay sideways on a couch in her room, propped up by the arm of it with a thick, ancient-looking book open in front of her. Her silken robe splayed out around her like a marvelous pink liquid frozen in time. She looked like a prestigious Roman aristocrat, and I was almost surprised there wasn't a slave feeding her grapes to her side.

"And I you, Miss Maryam." She replied in a tone that seemed pleasant at first but had the undertones of that which is most easily compared to the slither of a snake who has caught the scent of prey.

"Why don't you two get talking?" Ms. Lalonde said, examining the two of interacting with a joyous expression. "I bet you don't want some adult listening in as you get to know each other. Let me know if you need anything, Kanaya dear. Have fun!" She winked before sweeping herself out of the room, martini in hand. It was difficult not to feel bubbly around her, and with the death of the only person i've ever cared about on my shoulders, I needed it.

"So, you're Mary's daughter?" Rose Lalonde said after watching her mother leave the room with an air of contempt. I nodded, and she picked up her own martini glass from the bedside table next to her (though it should be noted, I feel, that in this situation it is really more of a couchside table). It was not in fact alcohol but what was obviously a pink-tinted soda of some sort. She took it very seriously, though, staring at it with a quiet gaze as she swirled it before taking a thoughtful sip. "Odd name, I've always thought. Mary Maryam. Whatever kind of parents she had must have hated her. Why don't you make yourself useful, by the way, and get started on cleaning?"

In my mental state, which as mentioned previously was not at its best due to my mother's death, I felt very protective of her memory. I had taken this as a form of insult at the time, and was a bit angered. Lalonde talked about her like she was unimportant, then immediately commanded me to do what? Fill her place? I hoped dearly that this was not how she saw us.

The room was a mess. Open books and balls of yarn scattered the gaudy pink, purple, and orange hued room. There were clothes, small wizard statues, and half-finished knitting projects strewn about the floor as if someone had a tantrum and tossed about everything they could in a fit of rage. Or perhaps a hurricane had come through. As I would later come to learn, fits-of-rage and hurricanes were synonymous in Lalonde's case. I began with picking the statues up from the floor.

"Mary was a nice woman," Lalonde continued, still examining her glass. "Bit chatty though. I'm not really certain why she stayed on as long as she did, she was so frail. Should have retired when she had the chance. If she hadn't been so foolish, maybe she wouldn't have gotten in this mess."

I clenched my jaw shut, trying not to let anger rise inside of me. I continued cleaning in silence, hoping maybe Lalonde would take the cue to stop talking. She either didn't notice or didn't care, for she carried on the one-sided conversation as if she were talking to herself.

"I suppose she couldn't have really quit though, could she? She had to raise you. Poor thing. Look how well _that _worked out for her."

Deep breath in, deep breath out. _Don't say a word_, I told myself. Just pretend you don't care. Lalonde fell silent for a moment, deep in thought. I had worked my way behind the couch now, and was picking up tossed-aside books in front of the bookshelf near the foot of her four-poster bed. The lavender gossamer curtains that draped over the large window in front of me swayed softly with the air motion of my movements in the otherwise still room. The window itself was large and overlooked a waterfall. The air in the room was thick and smelled of perfume, and my face was flushed with suppressed rage. I cracked the window open slightly, the cool air feeling good on my face. A breeze came through, blowing aside some scattered papers on the floor. They were some kind of unfinished math worksheets, but that wasn't what caught my attention. Underneath were small bits of ripped up paper with typewriter print on it. Glancing at Lalonde to make sure she was still turned the other way and finding her engrossed in her book, I tried to read the text.

They didn't make much sense, not that I expected them to. However, what I could make out intrigued me. "with your partnership", "discontinued correspondence", "you and your affiliation with Lalonde Corporation", and of course the most suspicious, the good old-fashioned "dire consequences". I picked up as many of the pieces as I can and stuffed them in my apron pocket.

"Mistress Lalonde." I said, with more assertiveness than I imagined was desirable for a servant.

"You needn't call me mistress."

"Lalonde, then. May I ask you a question?"

"Yes, you may." She said, probably enjoying the sound of her own authority far more than she should have.

"Do you have any idea why your company is so profitable?" It was a silly question, and I had a silly reason for asking. There was no way Lalonde had anything to do with it; she was only 16. But why else would the girl be receiving correspondence on behalf of her ditzy mother's company? There was really no good reason to think she was involved, besides some likely misleading scraps of paper.

And yet, I'm sure I saw her freeze. She paused before speaking. It wasn't much, but enough to make me interested.

"Why would I know?" It was a blunt answer, but in all fairness it was a clumsily asked question. I hadn't known this girl long, yet this seemed very unlike her. But it wasn't like I could question it, it was a fair answer. It's not like her mother would spill company secrets to her. We were both silent for a moment.

"You'd better get back to work. It's getting late, and if you want dinner you ought to hasten your pace."

I wasn't sure whether she was joking or not, so I worked as fast as I could without making it obvious. I didn't want to give the stuck-up girl the satisfaction.

When it was time to eat, Lalonde had me escort her down the extensive mansion halls to the dining room, which she assured me I would have the pleasure of seeing the interior of, though not to eat in. It was a passive way of flaunting the fact that I would have to serve her. I wondered if she hated me for some reason, or if she was just like this.

"Tell me something." She said as led the way down the halls.

"Something."

"Don't snark me, Maryam."

"Of course not, Mistress. Just following orders." I said obediently with undercurrents of the very snark she had just forbidden.

She smiled very slightly before continuing with her question. "Do you like your dress?"

The question surprised me. "It's...fine." I answered, watching my words, "Somewhat shorter than what is practical. And I don't understand the purpose of the high heels, they look nice but seem like a poor choice for working shoes."

I wasn't all that opposed to the dress, it looked nice. It had a very large skirt and a waist apron that seemed not to serve much purpose other than appearances. The 4-inch heels and thigh-high socks were very nice to look at, I'm sure, but would get very uncomfortable very fast. Ms. Lalonde seemed like an aesthetically-oriented woman, however, so I hadn't questioned it much.

Lalonde seemed pleased by my answer. Questions swam in my head, but I decided that Lalonde was at her best when not speaking, so I did not give voice to any of them.

"Do you care much for fashion?"

I contained my enthusiasm as best I could. "I dabble."

"Good." She stopped suddenly and made a 90 degree turn to the door on her right, thrusting it open. I marveled at the display before me. There were racks and racks of clothes of every kind, which all seemed to be perfectly tailored to Lalonde. There was everything from ballgowns to bathing suits in every color and fabric I could have ever wanted. I knew I would have no chance of ever getting to wear any of it, yet I found myself trying to think of a time I could sneak in and slip something on. Lalonde was a good six inches shorter than me, but was roughly the same build. It wasn't unreasonable to say I could have fit into some of the longer garments.

"Pick out something nice for me. Tonight's dinner is special, so consider this something of a test."

A sense of businesslike seriousness came over me as I strode between the aisles. I'm not sure how long I spent rifling through the dress section, but it must have been a long time. Surprisingly, there were no complaints from Lalonde. She watched me silently and intently, her hand softly and thoughtfully gripping her chin with her head crooked to the side. I finally decided on a longsleeved ankle-length gown with gentle purple fabric and an orchid waistband that fit like more of a corset, spanning from the bottom of the breasts to the waistline. It was simple but charming, and the band would accentuate her slim figure while the rest would drape nicely over her. Lalonde nodded in approval and we headed back to her room for her to change.

"Why is this dinner special?" I asked as we walked.

"My mother will be joining me."

"Oh?" I said in a light tone, attempting to hide my confusion and hoping she would provide an explanation. I used to eat dinner with my mother every night. As soon as she got home, that is. She would often get caught up late in work, and sometimes when I was little I would stay up hours past my bedtime for her to come back so we would have time together. I struggled to grasp the concept of the case being anything but.

Instead of elaborating, she opened the door to her room and stuck an arm out to stop me as I instinctually followed.

"Woah there, tiger. We've only just met. Don't worry though, you'll get your chance soon enough." She winked before taking the garment of choice from my arms and stepping inside. A heavy blush rose to my cheeks, as I'm sure was her intention, I realized with a hint of irritation. "Besides, there's no time for that now. I mustn't be late, regardless of circumstance."

I stood patiently outside of her door while I waited, feeling suddenly doubtful of Ms. Lalonde. Surely she can't blow her daughter off all that often, she seemed like such a lovely woman. Lalonde must just be acting dramatic for attention, it seemed like something that would be up her alley.

I also decided to set some time aside later to think of some other way to refer to either the mother or daughter, because Lalonde and Ms. Lalonde was awfully confusing.

A solid 20 minutes later, Lalonde the younger burst through the door and walked swiftly back down the halls, leaving me to catch up as best I could in my preposterous heels. Once I met Lalonde's hurried, near-running pace, I threw her a stern questioning glance. She didn't spare a look in return, apparently focusing her attention on holding up her dress so she didn't trip over it with her equally-impractical heels.

"What is the matter?" I asked in lieu of a response.

"We're running behind schedule." She rushed.

"Perhaps if you had not spent so long getting ready, we wouldn't have this problem. What took you that much time?"

"None of your business!"

I scoffed.

"I… I had problems lacing myself up in the back, alright? Does that satisfy you?"

I scoffed again, this time in exasperation. "I was right outside the door! You could have called for me, it's the whole reason I am here! Why are we in such a hurry, anyway? Surely your mother will understand?"

She scowled, then pointed towards a door approaching our right. "That way to the kitchen, Strider will give you instruction from there. And mind your own damn business!"

I was thrust through the double-doors into a bustling kitchen, the first other sign of life I'd seen since arriving. Cooks ran back and forth between sizzling pans and pots bubbling over like giant cauldrons. Orders were shouted through the hot, thick air that carried the tantalizing smell of gourmet meals, and to one side a group of bakers hurriedly kneaded dough and loaded large trays into ovens.

"Yo what's Rose's damage amirite"

Startled, I swiveled to see a blond butler about my size standing directly behind me and wondered how the hell he managed to get there without my hearing. He wore obnoxiously large sunglasses, especially considering the fact we were indoors.

"Um… Yes…" I muttered, taken off guard by both the sudden appearance of the young man and his statement.

"She's not so bad though, once you get used to her. Hey I'm Dave by the way. Strider. "

"Kanaya Maryam."

"Oh shit like Mary's kid Kanaya?"

"Yes?" I said, trying get used Dave's apparent nonchalantness in such a stressful place and wondering how he knew about me.

"Damn, that's crazy. Sorry about that whole dying deal by the way, we all thought she was the fuckin' bee's knees around here. Seriously, we loved the hell out of her. I'm pretty sure if it were legal she would have adopted every single one of us. Even the adults. I'm not really sure how that would work, but whatever, the intricacies of the American adoption system isn't really my area of expertise. She talked about 'her little Kanaya' _constantly. _Man, she told so many embarrassing stories about you that _I'm_ getting all flustered. Like 'aw shit shouldn't have done that' flustered though, not like 'southern belle with a crush on the colonel' flustered."

I stared at him incredulously, trying to wrap my head around his words. The disorganization of his speech made it hard to focus on what he was saying. My mother talked about me? I suppose it wasn't that much of a surprise, she had little life beside me outside of her work, I realized with a pang of guilt.

"Anyway I guess it's my job to tell you what to do? Which doesn't make any fucking sense, I'm like 16 fucking dolin' out instructions like a failing candy store with free samples and there are full-grown adults here probably _way _more qualified to be doing this shit. Like what the fuck I don't even know how to make scrambled eggs, how the fuck am I supposed to be teaching new guys how to flambe ice cream or whatever it is chefs do?"

"I'm… Not here to cook. " I interjected awkwardly before he could continue. "I'm just a maid, I think I'm supposed to be serving."

"Oh. I guess that explains that whole french maid getup. Alright. In that case just take the plates they set there-" He pointed at a counter at the end of the kitchen. "- after they ring the little bell thing. Then just go out that other door by the counter and put them on the table and look pretty I guess. Any questions or do I gotta play fucking Strider Tour Guide Extraordinaire? Fucking shit guide I'd be. 'And this is the one stove where that chef guy puts the thing and it gets all fried n shit. Wow, holy shit, look at that pot, it's got shit bubblin' around inside it. FUCKING ONCE IN A LIFETIME OPPORTUNITY TO SEE THIS MIRACULOUS BULLSHIT MOTHERFUCKERS BETTER TAKE IT ALL IN WHILE YOU STILL C-"

"THANK YOU. Thank you. That'll be enough." I interrupted before he could get anymore out of hand. I honestly wasn't sure whether I was better off with him or Lalonde.

Over the next few hours, I filed out of the kitchen carrying various dishes of food in a line with the other maids (who, I noted with distaste, wore significantly less superfluous uniforms), five or six in number, and set them on the dining room table. Dining hall was really a more accurate description, however, I thought as I tried not to obviously marvel at the magnificent room around me. It looked like it had come straight from an old castle, with a high arched glass ceiling open to the night sky, a thick red carpet blanketing the otherwise bare cobblestone floor, an intricate painting of some sort of sorcerer conjuring a storm around himself hanging over a massive fireplace, the only source of illumination other than the candles mounted on glimmering golden candlesticks that adorned the walls and dining table. The table itself was dramatically long, spanning most of the room. Even the gratuitous amounts of food that gradually found their place there were not enough to cover it completely. Surrounding it were equally as ludicrously-lengthed high backed chairs with red velvet padding, furniture truly fit for a dracula movie. The door the kitchen was placed inconspicuously to the right of the fireplace. All the way on the the other side of the room were the grand mahogany double-doors I assumed the diners would enter from.

I entered this room many times as the night wore on. Every time I did so, the table was completely unoccupied save for the seat at the far end of the table nearest to the large doors, which was filled by the slouched and downtrodden figure of Lalonde. And as consistently as the other seats were empty, so was the food wholly untouched and Lalonde's demeanor increasingly saddened and forfeited. Whenever I set another plate down in her proximity I would glance at her, while she refused to meet my eye. A deep pity rose in my chest, a level of sympathy I didn't think I was capable of feeling towards her.

Finally, after hours passed and the moon had reached its highest perch in the sky, Lalonde stood to meet us as we set down our dishes with the rest.

"That'll be all." She commanded in a cold voice, setting the unused cloth napkin she had lain on her lap previously onto the table. The other maids bowed and I followed suit, and Lalonde strode out of the room.

I returned to the kitchen and helped pack all the uneaten food into containers with the servants while the cooks cleaned up the kitchen and put dishware into the enormous dishwasher to be cleaned overnight. I paused in my work when I realized that Lalonde, despite refusing to eat, would still be hungry. When no one was looking, I searched for and retrieved a silver serving tray from the cupboards and loaded it with a steak, a bowl of mashed potatoes, a gravy boat, some boiled collard greens, and a glass of milk. It was the food that was still warmest, sans the milk of course. I slipped away and navigated my way back to Lalonde's room, relying on my memory to make my back.

Once I arrived at her bedroom (helpfully labelled with a plaque bearing her name so there would be no guesswork necessary), I balanced the tray on one hand carefully and knocked softly on the door with the other.

"Mistress Lalonde?" I called softly. I reverted back to a formal means of address, feeling her last name alone too harsh for the circumstance.

"I am not taking visitors at the moment, Maryam." Her voice had a forced authority to it, her instability apparent. Wanting to spare her pride, I set the tray down in front of the door loudly enough for her to hear, then went back to the kitchen once more.

Upon my arrival, a wild-haired maid with unusually circular glasses, looking to be about 17 or so, beelined to me as soon as she caught sight.

"Are you Kanaya?" She asked excitedly.

"I am."

"Great! I'm Jade, and I'm going to show you to the maid's quarters. We're going to be bunkmates!"

"Bunkmates?"

"Yeah, each room has two bunkbeds, and you'll be sharing with me! I'm kinda new too, so our room has been just me so far. It'll be the two of us now, though!" She smiled widely at this. "Come on, it's really late, and if you're Rose's personal servant you'll need all the rest you can get."

As Jade led the way to our room, a question sprang to mind.

"Jade?"

"Yeah?"

"Why do you and the Strider boy call Mistress Lalonde by her first name?"

Jade giggled. "We're kinda friends. I mean, no one is _really_ a friend of Rose's, I guess, but we're friend_ly_, and that's something. John, too. He's another butler, but he's on vacation."

"I see."

"If you have any other questions, like, any kind at all, you can ask me, okay? We're all friends here, and I'm happy to help!"

"Thank you. I will." I said gratefully as we stopped in front of a nondescript door, presumably that of my new place of residence.

"Um, Kanaya…" Jade said hesitantly, hand halfway to the doorknob. "About your mom…"

"I think there's been enough about my mom for today." I said coldly, not wanting to have a conversation with another person who claimed to know her while the pain of her death had yet to subside. I grabbed the doorknob myself and walked inside.

It was a humble room, with two bunkbeds on either side of the cozy space as promised. the walls were a warm maroon, and the beige shag carpet muffled my steps as I walked past the makeup table on the right side of the room and dresser on the left. Jade walked in after me, shutting the door behind her.

"Which one do you want?" she asked in a softer tone than before, apparently trying not to upset me.

"This one will suffice." I said, putting my hand on the railing of the top right bunk.

"Cool. That door next to the dresser leads to the bathroom, which is also connected to the next bedroom over, so make sure to knock. I'm going to go shower, so you can get changed and settle in. This bunk's mine, by the way." She said, motioning towards the bottom left bunk before exiting into the bathroom.

I opened the dresser to find a full-body mirror and a white nightgown on the rack pre-prepared for me. I undressed and slipped it on then climbed up to my new bed and nestled myself under the covers, head swimming.

New home, new job, new clothes, new life. My mother was dead and the thought that I was not the only thing in my mother's life that mattered to her was forcing its way into my head, however much the childish part of me wanted to deny it. And for the forseeable future, I would be spending every day working away my hours and devoting my entire life to seeing to the every will and whim of Rose Lalonde.

Not a bright future at all.

* * *

Note: sorry it's out a bit later than i had wanted. oh well. also, sorry i haven't gotten to any action yet, but don't worry this is the last real setup chapter. i'm going to try to keep this updated weekly. thank you for all your kind feedback!


	3. Chapter 2

Note: i know i said i would try to update this weekly, i'm so sorry. both with my art apprenticeship training and the act that i have to go help at my mom's house because they're facing eviction (and the family's had the house for over 100 years how's that for bullshit) there's a lot going on so i haven't had a lot of time, conviction, or motivation to be writing. i'm doing my best though.

thank you all again so much for your positive reviews and for following+favoriting the story, means a lot. enjoy!

* * *

"Kanaya...Hey, wake up, sleepyhead!"

I opened my eyes blearily. "What time is it?"

"6:30! Time to get ready for work."

I sighed, sitting upright and trying to blink myself awake. Jade was clinging to the railing of my bed and standing on the frame of the one beneath me to prop herself up, apparently to give me what she must believe to be the joy of a face-to-face greeting. She lept off energetically to allow me to clamber down.

"How in god's name are you this awake already?"

"You just get used to it, I guess. I don't know. But come on, we have to get a move on, I need to show you where the washers are so we can pick up our uniforms."

"And when exactly did they make it there?"

"I brought them before you woke up. Normally you're supposed to bring them right before you start getting ready, but I brought them earlier so you could sleep in an extra half hour. It's not that long, but you looked like you could use all the sleep you could."

"Thank you for that. It is much appreciated. This job is a great deal more stressful than I had originally approximated it would be."

"No problem! But like I said, we need to hurry a little more today. We need to start breakfast, then after we serve the Lalondes we get to eat. I don't know what you're supposed to do after that, though, so you should probably go report to Rose afterwards."

I tailed Jade as she showed me the washing machines and dryers and instructed me on how to use them, then we brought our clothes back to our room and entered the bathroom to take our showers.

I was shocked by the bathing system at first. There was a line of showerheads over a strip of tile flooring, with small and not very concealing translucent glass barriers between them that extended from the wall and rose from about thigh-level to just above my breasts. For the taller girls, like Jade and a very supple blonde who presumably resided in the adjacent bedroom with the others who were showering, they did not have that luxury of concealment. Jade must have noticed my apprehension, for she startled me by clapping a hand on my shoulder encouragingly.

"Come on, don't be shy! We're all girls here! Look, there's a free stall next to Vriska, why don't you take it?"

Jade grabbed a towel from the rack and started to strip, so I nervously followed her lead and slipped off my gown, feeling self-conscious. Once I was in the stall (next to the blonde, whom I gathered was Vriska), I shut the needlessly tiny door behind me and fiddled with the knobs on the wall until the temperature of the downpour of water met my liking. Jade took the stall next to me, and I tried very hard to avert my attention from her and the endearingly freckled Vriska to my right. It was no easy feat. I tried to remember all the cautions my mother had drilled into my mind throughout the years about liking other girls, about how the only people who did were perverts who couldn't control themselves. I was not a pervert. And I had control,no matter what. I had control. _I had control. _I had to repeat that over and over, desperately trying to convince myself as my thoughts grew harried and angry. I scrubbed harder. I took control. They were wrong. They were all wrong. I _took _control. Me. No one else.

"Hey, Kanaya, time to get dressed."

I was snapped out of my thoughts by Jade, who was out of the shower now and wrapped up in a towel. I turned off the water and joined her in our room. I sat with her at the vanity, the both of us still in our towels, as we brushed our hair. Jade of course was taking longer with her wild mane of frizzy locks. As I got dressed and began applying makeup, I admired my own appearance in a rare moment of self-inflation. My mother would always tell me how wonderful and unusual my eyes were, how few people had the combination of dark skin and green eyes. I used to hate them and think they were odd, and I still did, but I could at least appreciate their rarity. While Jade still worked out the tangles in her hair, I pulled out my box of lipstick and looked through my rainbow of shades, deciding on plain black for the day. Lalonde wore black lipstick too, I realized with a small degree of personal offense. I nearly put it back out of spite, but it felt like giving her a victory (even if she had no idea), so I painted my lips with it in the most passive aggressive manner one could possibly apply makeup in.

Jade finally finished with her hair and disrobed so she could adorn herself in her gloriously plain uniform. We walked down to the kitchen with the other maids, who were very casual and chatty when not at work. The garrulous bunch was chittering on about the occurrence with Lalonde the night before. Detest her as I might, it seemed low to gossip about it. Everyone was vulnerable sometimes.

My attention was caught by one maid who was almost ridiculously muscular with back-length hair that towered above the others. They wore a maid uniform like everyone else, but closer examination uncovered that they were male in sex. They were missing several teeth and looked like they had just been punched in the face. They stood out like an ostrich among ravens, but no one else made mention of it, so I didn't raise an issue.

I took up station in the kitchen setting out plates for the chefs to load food onto and helping slice and peel produce. Not long after beginning, the Serpentine herself sauntered in, wearing a casual orange spaghetti-strap dress, blue flats, and a condescending glance through glittering yellow eyelids for whomever would receive it. I kept my eyes to my work, praying silently that she would pass by. But such was not my luck.

"Helping with the menial labor, Maryam?"

I set down the potato I had finished peeling to be chopped, fried, and served on the side of her eggs benedict and picked up another. She sat herself up on the counter, crossing her legs and leaning back on her outstretched arms.

"Just preparing your breakfast, Lalonde. It's a large one, you must be hungry." I said casually as I looked at her from the side, trying to gauge whether she had accepted last night's offering. She looked as composed as ever, it being unbefitting of her to show any insecurity. It might have never happened to an onlooker, if not for the slight redness around her eyes. Had I felt more charitably, I would have offered to help cover it with makeup.

"Helping the lower-down maids out, though? You seem like the type who might think it below you."

"I am merely doing as you instructed me to." I said in confusion.

"But still, not even a word of doubt? You're not getting paid _that_ well, you know. Actually, you're not really getting paid at all."

"I am being paid in a home, food, and care when I very well could have been tossed into the foster care system or left to pan for money on the streets. For that I am grateful. I am not above these other helpers, they are trying to get by, same as myself. I am not superior. Beyond job rank, at least."

There was a small tut from Lalonde. "_I_ think you're better."

I looked at her incredulously. She had been treating me very poorly, I had assumed out of hate towards me and her own massively bloated ego, but now I was having doubts. Compliments were unlike her, she was too stuck-up and arrogant to appreciate another person… Unless me believing that was her intention.

"You have been testing me."

She said nothing.

"That's it, is it not? You wanted to see how tolerant I am. To what? Gauge if I was good enough for you? See if I met your standards?"

She smiled slyly. "You're much sharper than I thought, Maryam. Looks like I'll have to keep on my toes around you."

I narrowed my eyes at her scrutinizingly as she slid off the counter and strode towards the door that led to the dining room. At least I was right about the swollen ego.

"Oh, and Kanaya, dearest?" She chimed cockily, stopping at the door and turning her head to look at me before exiting. "Love the lipstick."

* * *

The rest of the day after breakfast was spent following Lalonde around and completing the tasks she asked of me, which mostly included opening and shutting doors for her, picking up after her activities in various rooms, and listening on in silence as she prattled on about this and that. Easy enough, if it weren't for having to deal with her constant passive-aggressive beration and implications of inferiority. If this was meant to be a test, it was with absolute certainty one of the most challenging I have ever faced.

At the end of the day, I walked Lalonde back to her room and pulled out her short, silky dark purple nightgown while she seated herself on a cushioned stool.

"Maryam, darling, I need help unzipping this dress."

I cringed inwardly. She had been calling me dear and darling all day. I pulled up another stool behind the shorter girl and sat down, the smell of lilac, lemon, and Lalonde's own sweat (surprisingly not unpleasant) filling me. This, plus the heat of the room and Lalonde's closeness, made time feel slower. Like a petal on a windless day falling to the ground gracefully, taking its sweet time with every loop and swirl before the finalizing kiss of the land grounds it. Obstructing my access to the zipper was a strip of cloth around her midriff which tied around the front. I bit my lower lip contemptuously. It was more than likely Lalonde's intention to toy with me like this. I leaned forward til my body was nearly pressed against Lalonde's back as I reached for the knot, arms wrapping around her in the process. I cursed her as loud as I could in my mind. Frustration and heat clumsied my fingers, making it increasingly difficult to undo the knot. Inability to see what I was doing impeded my progress as much as the rest, so I was forced to move my chin over Lalonde's shoulder and subsequently bring my face in very close proximity to hers to get a view of my work. I could practically hear the smirk on her face. When the cursed knot was finally untied, I moved back and, with speed and gratitude the uncomfortable ordeal was over, unzipped the dress.

God, the heat in the room was unbearable. As soon as I put the dress in the wardrobe to be resorted into the clothing room later and Lalonde started to put on her nightgown, I undid the latch on the window and cracked it. The starch night air filled the bedroom pleasantly and billowed the curtains on the window and four-poster bed. When I turned back around, Lalonde was sitting on the edge of her bed, staring at her bedding contemplatively.

"Do you need anything before I go, Miss?"

"No, no. And what did I say about the formalities?"

"Of course. My apologies." I started towards the door, but Lalonde called before I could leave.

"Maryam? Do remember to eat, dear."

I paused, then continued out the door. I hadn't eaten since breakfast, and I skipped dinner the night before, too. I returned to the kitchen and heated up leftovers from lunch, then sat down in the servant's dining quarters, which was accessible through a small door off to the side of the kitchen. Some of the butlers, maids, and cooks were still milling about and finishing their meals. I consumed my supper slowly, the others trickling out for their evening's respite as the night wore on. I'm not certain when exactly I had finished, but I knew it was very late, for the kitchen and adjoining halls were all abandoned. The loud click of my heels heralding my arrival was the only sound to be heard, echoing off the tall and warmly-lit walls. Had I been weaker of heart, I might have been slightly frightened at the emptiness. The relative silence was peaceful and encompassing, and that's how I knew something was wrong at the first sign.

There was the faintest sound of scuffling, coming from down the hall. I hurried my pace, keeping as quiet as I could with the clopping of my shoes. There was the murmur of voices now too, threatening in tone. As I neared the sound my heart began to race, fear prickling my spine. It was coming from Lalonde's room. I slipped off the horrible heels and crept towards the door with my back against the wall, the cold of the stone floor chilling my feet through my thin socks. I turned the knob slowly, quietly, damning every click and grind it made. Cracking it open, I sucked in my stomach and slipped through.

My breath caught in my throat as came in just in time to Lalonde get punched in the face, hard. There was the silhouetted frame of a man kneeling over her small and terrified figure on the bed, poised to strike again. Rage gripped me like the talons of a hawk. This was unnecessary. I scanned the vicinity for weapons and spotted a pair of knitting needles in their basket on the couchside table. I made a dash towards the bed, grabbing the needles as I went. The sound was enough to alert Lalonde and her assailant of my presence.

The man charged towards me aggressively, but I refused to turn away. He lunged at me with his arms outstretched, and without breaking pace I ducked under his arm, elbowing his side in the process. Launching off the ground behind him, I looped my leg around his neck and, using the momentum of his recoil from the elbow jab, flipped him onto the ground. He rolled over and slammed me onto the floor hard, loosening my leg grip enough to shove me off. He jumped in the air to drive his elbow into my stomach, but he was slow and clumsy, so I was able to roll out of the way before he descended onto me. While he was still on all fours trying to stand back up, I darted beneath him and headbutted upwards, catching him by surprise and knocking him onto his back. Still on my knees, I somersaulted forward and pinned his neck between my legs once more. Raising the thus-far unused needles into the air, I thrust them downwards with all my might.

"KANAYA!"

I stopped at Lalonde's call, the needles mere centimeters away from the man's eyes. If I had not paused, they would have been driven straight into his brain. That, of course, being the intention. He reopened his eyes cautiously. I would have looked at Lalonde questioningly, but I did not want to take my eyes off the intruder. I would not hesitate to finish him off if he made a move, and I wanted him to know it.

"Kanaya, that's enough. Let him go." There was horror in her voice. Odd.

I sighed and regrettedly stood up to let him leave. He exited out of the open window where he had entered from. I shut and bolted it after him.

When I moved to face Lalonde again, I saw that her face was already starting to swell. Her head was bent and she held a hand over her mouth. She had a minifridge in the corner, so I grabbed a small bag of ice from within and joined Lalonde on the bed. I wrapped the ice up in my apron and pressed it lightly against her reddening face. Sitting there beaten up in her skimpy little nightgown, she looked so weak and helpless. I tried to derive some sort of victorious joy from the sight, but I couldn't, however hard I tried. It wasn't worth it.

She flinched away in pain from the cold touch of the ice at first, but then moved into it thankfully. She remained still after that. I had never seen her silent for this long. I almost hated myself for being the one to break it.

"Why did that man attack you?" I said quietly, gently.

"You saved my life. Where did you learn to do all that?"

Her response irritated me, so I ignored the question. "If I saved your life, then do you not at least owe me an answer as to why it was in danger in the first place?"

She looked up at me with uncharacteristically doe-ish eyes. They were like mine; not in that they were green or of a darker shade, but that they were unusual. Light purple, very much a rarity. People with purple eyes have weaker muscles in their iris, I recalled, so were very sensitive to light. It was no wonder the mansion was so dark most of the time, it must be very painful for her to see that much light. For some reason, however, I did not mind her odd eyes like I did my own, but rather I found them charming. They glittered even in the low light as they flickered downward to avoid my gaze.

"I will tell you, simply to repay the favor, but you mustn't tell anyone. It is of the utmost importance that this remain between us. Can you assure me, on your life, you'll never speak of this to anyone?"

"You have my word."

She took a deep breath before beginning.

"You remember, a few years back, when the company almost went bankrupt. It was the fault of my mother, she made very poor investment decisions time and time again, being the hopelessly hopeful woman that she is. I watched as our empire crumbled around us, and I couldn't stand it anymore. Through a friend of a friend of a neighbor of a servant, I was able to make contact with a very powerful group of people, essentially an underground mafia. They make their money and reap power in the most despicable of ways. Blackmail, 'protection' services, drug trafficking, general robbery and bullying. Being someone of my status, I was able to open communications with the shadowy head himself. He invested in us, helped us get back on our feet. But after that, they got greedy. They've been demanding larger shares of the profit and that I feed them with inside knowledge and sabotage my peers, with threats on my life and company if I do not do as they require me to. I officially severed ties with them not long ago, so this must be their first attempt at a kidnapping. Too oafish to be an assassination, obviously. They'd send someone more subtle for that."

A tense silence fell between us as I processed this information.

"And your mother, she has no idea?"

"Not a clue. But this can't come as that jarring of a shock to you, you've met her. I've been handling our transactions for the past few years, but I've allowed her to believe all decisions were her own." Her tone turned sour. "Always so caught up in work she isn't actually doing."

"My mother always said that keeping secrets would rot your soul, so it's best not to keep any." My accent turned slightly southern in an echo of her as I paraphrased one of her favorite sayings.

Lalonde smiled, ever so slightly. "Seems like intelligence runs in the family, then."

At that she leaned onto me and rested her head in the crook of my neck, and I tried not to pull away in surprise. I had no idea what to do, it's not like I had ever been in any similar situation before. I awkwardly set down the ice and placed one hand on her back, wrapping the other around her middle. It felt comfortable, correct. Lalonde put her hands on my shoulders, lifting herself upright and pulling her head back to look at me. She was close, too close, and getting closer. This wouldn't do.

There was the slightest of tugs in my chest as I saw disappointment shade the sparkle in Lalonde's eyes when I pulled away.

"Goodnight, Rose." I said sternly, standing.

"Goodnight, Kanaya." She murmured, voice so soft and so very far from the curt and pretentious jog she usually conducted her speech with.

I could feel her watch me as I left the room, door shutting with a small click behind me. I took a deep breath upon exiting, relishing the cool air my lungs. Such a stark contrast to the thick heat of that solarous room. Straightening my back and shoulders, I adopted a businesslike posture as I walked assuredly back to my quarters, stopping to grab my heels along the way. I pulled my cell from my shirt pocket and checked it. One new message.

_Report, _it commanded.

I typed out a reply.

_Success._


End file.
